Being Selective, Avoiding Attention

I dance with any lady to any song, but lately, I’ve become more picky about who I partner with and well, I’ve become selective about song choice too.

Please note that this lady is not Viola.

I see it with most dancers, whether it’s Bachata, Cuban Salsa or Kizomba, that lady usually dances with that guy. And you can see their reaction when their favourite Salsa track comes on, so I’m not alone with this selection policy.

Dancing to specific songs is obvious. I mean there are certain tracks that you just feel in your soul. It’s a unique link and that’s the feeling (you want) with certain ladies.

Coisas Da Terra by Paulo Flores – for example –  moves me to do basics because that’s the song I heard constantly when I started Kizomba. It’s a familiar, happy beat, you just got to love it.

But when it comes to choosing partners. Eish. Familiarity breeds contempt.

Viola. Dancing with her is like lifting 10-kilo kettlebells. Heavy, inflexible, no fun. Just a force that either swings one way or another. I don’t know why I try. Oh, wait it’s in my Aries profile to be nice and to dance with everybody because everybody wants to dance.

No. Everybody needs to learn basics first before they want; because that want is to shine.

Viola ignores the basics of Kizomba. She leans back, her body sways next to the beat and her groin movement is heating up mine and it’s not fun. No, seriously it’s not.


I dance with Viola again, because the instructor in me believes that she needs a little bit of guidance. My constructive criticism is not heard, in fact, she seems determined to prove me wrong.

She is not the only one, there are a few Violas, I avoid them. I can see their enthusiasm to dance but I cannot; I will not put myself through that WWE demonstration.

Yet here I am, eyes closed, I berate myself while onlookers probably think this guy is in the moment. That four-minute song felt like it had five minutes added on. The strain on my shoulder is felt the next day.

The thing though that really grates me is the lack of connection.Besides not following, Viola is not feeling the music. I wonder why she attends classes or parties?

She is there to be seen, trying her best to look fabulous with a Passada. A simple movement becomes an exhibition of her hips lying. I have no connection with this kettle-bell.

Viola likes getting paid attention. That’s clear. But I can only give her a high five as I step to Mandy. She smiles, connects and allows me to lead.

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